


Snow Days

by whouffaldigarbage



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whouffaldigarbage/pseuds/whouffaldigarbage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluffy whouffaldi snowed-in fic in which Clara teaches the Doctor a little bit about being human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Days

The TARDIS arrived in Clara Oswald’s bathroom and the Doctor swung the door open with gravitas. “Clara! What do you say to a deep-sea adventure four thousand years in the future? I promise this time there’ll be no ghosts. Well, technically I can’t promise cross my heart hope to die, I actually enjoyed myself quite a lot last time, but I know it was harrowing for you—Clara, where are you?” His monologue was complete and she wasn’t even acknowledging him. He peered up and down the hall and saw soft golden illumination coming from the den. He started towards it. “I even remembered my note cards this time so I wouldn’t embarrass you. Again, no promises.”  
He entered the den and found her sitting with her legs curled up beneath her on the couch, a cup of hot tea in one hand and an open book on her lap. That thick throw she liked was wrapped around her small frame in an almost comical fashion. She looked up at him expectantly with those freakishly large eyes of hers. “What are you doing all bundled up? All of time and space is just itching to be explored!” he insisted with the giddiness of a child.  
“Not today.” She intoned simply. The Doctor stared at her as though she just grew a third arm; with skepticism and confusion.  
He took a step away from her, then another, hands coming up protectively in front of himself. “Are you ill?” His eyes darted around the potential petri dish of a room he was standing in with mounting terror.  
She shook her head with a smile. “No. Fit as a fiddle. I would just rather stay home today. It’s snowing.”  
His shoulders relaxed and he walked towards the window, squinting at the snow falling silently outside. What was so special about snow? She’d seen it before. “You do know I have a time machine, yes?” he turned back to face her. “We can go someplace where there isn’t snow and warm up.”  
She cocked her head at him and brought her mug to her lips to blow on the tea. “I don’t want to warm up. I want to enjoy the snow day.” She took a sip of tea as he continued to stare at her, utterly perplexed.  
“It’s just fluffy frozen water. You’ve seen it before.”  
“Yes, but it’s outside, and I’m in here all cozied up and it feels wonderful. Soothing, even.”  
He shifted his weight to his other foot, “So, you want to enjoy the snow by not being in it? Clara do you hear how ridiculous—“  
She snapped her book shut. “Haven’t you ever enjoyed the snow? Just enjoyed the presence of it? Knowing it meant you could stay indoors all bundled up with a hot cuppa and a good book?”  
He frowned. “That’s something you like to do?”  
“Yes.”  
“Sit inside all day when the weather gets nippy?”  
“Yes.”  
His fingers came up to massage one of his temples. She was impossible. “Fine, fine. I’ll just pop off, then.” He started back towards the hall.  
“Stay with me,” she implored. He paused and turned to her. “I could show you how great it is. Sitting inside while it’s nippy.”  
“Clara that’s utterly—“  
“What else are you doing today?”  
He sulkily dug into the carpet with the toe of his shoe. “Well I was going to explore the ocean with my friend but that’s out.”  
“Exactly. Plans have been cancelled due to snow. So let’s stay in and make our own fun, yeah?” She gestured to the side of the couch next to her with that damned smile of hers. She knew he was putty when she flashed it at him. He resigned himself with a grumpy sigh and plopped himself down next to her. She threw half of the thick coverlet over him that was still warm from her body heat. He found himself readjusting it so more of it would cover more of him. He’d taken too much, apparently, and she was left with too little, so she yanked on her side of it, which pulled too much off him. This was war. Evidently she knew it, too, for she placed her mug on the table beside the couch and turned to him with a wicked glint in her eye.  
“Alright Marie Antoinette let’s share with the bourgeois, yes?” he tugged playfully at the throw. Her grip on it was too strong, so he was forced to pull harder. She still wouldn’t budge. He gripped his side of the blanket with both hands and heaved. He got the blanket, and Clara along with it. She tumbled against him, her head crashing into his shoulder and her arm fell across his chest, still clinging fiercely to a corner of the blanket. They both started giggling at the state they were in. Causalities of the blanket war. Instead of righting herself, as he thought she would do immediately, she stayed where she landed, curled against his side. Her arm tightened around his chest, pulling him closer, her head nuzzled into the part where his shoulder met his chest. He used his free arm to lay the blanket over her. She was so warm. Her hot breath through her parted lips against his chest made him feel safe.  
They both sat like that for a time, staring at the snow drifting down outside the window. Watched as the trees grew elegant white gloves on their dark branches. The sun would start going down in another hour, he guessed.  
“Are you hungry?” she asked after a long while. “The kitchen is stocked for the weather.”  
“How long is it supposed to last?”  
“Through tomorrow afternoon. The weatherman said we’d get just under a foot. We’re snowed in, Doctor. And I have more junk food than we could eat in a month.”  
“Junk food?” he grinned. “Shouldn’t you have stocked up on the essentials?”  
She sat up and looked at him seriously. “Junk food is essential.”  
He raised his eyebrows. “What are we talking, then? Crisps and pudding?”  
She detangled herself from the blanket and disappeared in the kitchen. He felt a strange emptiness where she had just been pressed against him.  
Clara returned after a few moments with her arms overflowing with snacks. Three different flavors of chips. Two brands of crisps. Hummus. A pint of ice cream. And those were just the things he recognized. She dumped it all on her coffee table, and he stared in muted shock. She winked at him. “Just the essentials.”  
“You’re insane. This is insane.”  
“Hush, you. Tuck in.” she smiled as she ripped open a bag of foil wrapped chocolate candy. “Let’s watch a movie—what are you in the mood for?”  
He couldn’t take his eyes off of the massive pile of junk food. “Right now? pepto bismol.”  
She swatted his leg. “How about a silent? I love silents. We can talk over them, too, and not miss any plot. I have The Gold Rush on bluray.” She went to the shelf by the TV and scanned it for a moment before plucking out the DVD and placing it in the player. She returned to plop down smack up against him and hit play on the remote before grabbing a bag of crisps and hummus and placing it on their laps.  
“I used to love Chaplin so much as a kid.” She sighed as the film began. The opening scene depicted a snowy mountain, how fitting. Her head rested against his shoulder as she ate a crisp and continued murmuring, “Still do. The way he always doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing, but still manages to come out on top. Except when it comes to women. There’s something so painfully sad about him, you know? Those big eyes…”  
The Doctor piled too much hummus on a crisp and ate the entire thing in one bite. Just the way he liked it. “Mmph.” He agreed. The film continued, and it was quite good. They got to the bit with the Tramp stuck in the cabin in a snowstorm. Charlie resorted to eating his own shoe.  
She pulled the pint of ice cream off of the table and handed him one of two spoons before settling back against him. “You ever tried scooping the ice cream out with a crisp?” before he could object in horror, she did so and put the monstrosity in her mouth.  
“Clara Oswald—“  
“What? Mr. Fish sticks and custard.” She reached for another chip and dug it into the softening ice cream before handing it to him. “Try it.” She insisted earnestly. He pushed the concoction away with a slender finger. “Doctor.” Her voice took on that tone. Teacher Oswald. Stern. He couldn’t say no to her when she took that tone. It made his knees twitch and his stomach flop over, from anything but fear. He hesitantly opened his mouth, and she placed her creation within. He closed his mouth and, after the initial fearful sensation of something hard, salty, and thin cracking as he bit down into the soft, sweet ice cream, he delighted in the mixing textures and flavors. His eyebrows traveled up his forehead in surprise. She laughed. “See? Good, right?”  
He brought a hand up and wiggled it in a non-committal “eh” motion to irk her. She swatted his leg again. He smiled despite himself. “Have you got any more of those gummy whats-its?”  
She leaned towards the table and dropped the bag of sour gummi worms in his lap. He twitched slightly, which she didn’t notice, blessedly, as she was still leaning over the table to fetch some other diabetic nightmare. The arm she’d been lying on had become stiff, so he stretched it out along the back of the couch. When she leaned back against him, his arm was around her shoulder. He didn’t realize that would happen. She didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. In fact, one of her hands coiled up to grab his fingertips and encircle his arm further around her so his hand rested against her arm. His fingers absently drew tattoos against her skin. Only Clara Oswald would wear a tank top in the middle of a snow storm. She snuggled up against him as if reading his thoughts and becoming cold because of it. He pulled the blanket around her more tightly and leaned his head against hers.  
They sat like that until the film ended. The last light of day had faded from the sky, and the snow was illuminated from the outside lamp. He noted her even breathing, and looked down to see her eyes closed. She had fallen asleep. He watched her for a time, his fingers dusting patterns against her arm. He felt so content with her in this moment. Cozy. Warm. Perhaps the snow had something to do with it? He felt as though the boundaries between them were shifting as they cuddled together, stuck in this moment in time from the frozen outside. Of course he could have left at any time, to go to any time, but somehow, he merely dismissed the possibility. He was snowed in with Clara Oswald. He was in it for the long haul. The thought made him giddy and profoundly at ease. He turned his head slightly and pressed a soft kiss to her hairline while she slept. He didn’t know why, or what it meant, only that he felt like doing it in that moment. His lips rested there, he closed his eyes and could smell her shampoo. Rosemary and Mint.  
He fell asleep with Clara Oswald wrapped around him, and he around her, as the snow continued to pile itself on the windowsill.


End file.
